


Bittersweet

by ToxicPineapple



Series: Amamota Week 2020 [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Amamota Week, Amamota Week 2020, Angst, Bittersweet, Character Study, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Healing, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Nonbinary Momota Kaito, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: whenever his family did their beach trips, there would always be a part of the day where aki volunteered to keep an eye on kikuko for a while, entertain her, while rantaro snuck off to be by himself. (oh but he would give anything, now, to have kikuko cling to him the way she used to.) rantaro would toss his shirt and his shoes and run down to the water, catch the stink eye from a lifeguard and slow his pace, but then speed up again as soon as the guy turned around, propelling himself towards the water, slipping under the waves as soon as he got close enough.that first dip under, and then that first breath of air after he breached, it was always to rantaro like coming home.---rantaro and kaito go to the beach past midnight, and rantaro remembers what it means to be alive.---Amamota week day one: Sea/Stars
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Momota Kaito
Series: Amamota Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994860
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> written for amamota week day one! the prompt was sea/stars

some of rantaro's happiest memories are of the ocean.

on the rare sunny morning when his father wasn't busy with work, the whole family would pack their bags and drive to the beach closest to the estate and spend the whole day playing in the sand, dipping beneath the waves. sometimes rantaro doesn't know, in retrospect, whether he enjoyed these occasions because of what they did, or merely because they are the most concrete memories he has, of when he used to be happy.

he looks at all of those memories with a smile, but his favourites, he tells people, are the ones of his sisters. mina, with ice cream dripping down her chin. kasumi getting her older sisters to help her bury a napping hikaru in the sand. kikuko going looking for sea shells, insisting that she be carried over the sand so she doesn't get any on her feet, in her hair.

and they are his favourites. anything that's to do with when he had his sisters, before he failed them all so terribly, rantaro would call those happy memories. the same can be said for simpler, quieter memories, of reading books over rui's shoulder and braiding mahoko's hair and playing hand games with kei and aki. rantaro cherishes those memories, along with the photo album that he carries around with him on his travels, because they're all he has left.

but... secretly, those happy, blissful memories of his sisters are all... bittersweet, now, like dark chocolate, or maybe something less pleasant. thinking about kikuko sitting on the towel, arranging her sea shells in order of size and colour, or satsuki, stealing bites from koharu's ice cream after she already finished her own, or even just maemi, who could get lost on the beach for hours, just, exploring, and always manage to find her way back to them when it was time to go home, it's all... painful, now. it reminds rantaro of things he used to have.

of things he'll never have again, even if he finds them. distance and age and time, those are what will get in the way of making more of those happy memories. even if rantaro finds them all, and they're all alive, and they all want to come back home, nothing will erase what he did to them, nor will that make him forget how very empty that old house gets without them, the way the halls were always so quiet without the sounds of chatter, or padded footsteps.

it's hard to think about things rantaro knows he'll never get back. just as much as it's difficult to stop himself from thinking about it, sometimes. stop the tears from coming to his eyes when he remembers how happy they all used to be. how much he still loves them, even now, ten years since he first lost kikuko in the philippines, how much he _aches_ without them.

so... selfishly, very selfishly, rantaro's favourite memories of the ocean are... less to do with his sisters. his sisters are there, obviously they're there, but they're not in the foreground. if rantaro was to bring home one of his sisters, he doesn't think he'd be able to be around her without having his eyes on her at all times. at _all_ times. but in his memories, they aren't his focus. they're safe, he knows they're safe, doesn't even have to question it, and he can just... relax.

whenever his family did their beach trips, there would always be a part of the day where aki volunteered to keep an eye on kikuko for a while, entertain her, while rantaro snuck off to be by himself. (oh but he would give anything, now, to have kikuko cling to him the way she used to.) rantaro would toss his shirt and his shoes and run down to the water, catch the stink eye from a lifeguard and slow his pace, but then speed up again as soon as the guy turned around, propelling himself towards the water, slipping under the waves as soon as he got close enough.

that first dip under, and then that first breath of air after he breached, it was always to rantaro like coming home. the air on his face would be cool and crisp after submerging himself, and the sun would be pleasantly warm, making the deep blue water sparkle in such a pretty way.

when rantaro was young, he took swimming lessons. he had to, in order to sail, and that was such a large part in being the heir to his father's company, of course rantaro was going to sail.

but even without the swimming lessons, rantaro always felt like he would do just fine in the ocean, like the water was welcoming him, like he was where he was always meant to be. he would kick off the shore and roll over onto his back and let himself float backwards, further and further out, just staring up at the clouds, idly treading water with his hands. his lungs would strain for air but it was an addicting, exhilerating burn, his heart pounding in his ears. the beach was always so crowded when they went, but the rest of the world tended to fade away when rantaro was in the water. he could just stay there, until his fingers pruned and he started to shiver in the cold water, feeling safer than he ever had. more at peace.

the ocean ceased to be rantaro's refuge after kikuko was lost. the beautiful bottle glass green water of puerto princesa started to remind rantaro of dark, twisting trails and jutting roots and low hanging branches. the trail was never so foreboding in reality but all rantaro could see it as was the one where he lost his sister, and thus the ocean lost its shimmer too.

he only distanced himself further in bermuda, years and years later, when koharu walked down to the beach and never returned, not even a scream to announce her disappearance. it had felt, the night before koharu disappeared, like she wanted desperately to walk into the water and never resurface. it was something that rantaro used to want. but for rantaro, it would have been an escape.

for koharu, it would have been a punishment. and the ocean never really looked to rantaro the same way, not after she was gone.

even now, the ocean carries that same bitterness, the worst kind, the sort that's tinged with sweetness; it's so familiar to him the way the waves crash against the shore, bioluminescent plankton sparkling with every disturbance. there are no foodprints on the flat, wet sand, no sign of anyone else's presence. if rantaro turned to leave now, it would be like he was never here.

but kaito would never let him do that, and tonight is different, anyway, from the way it was back then. rantaro has seen the ocean at night, but it's never been familiar to him, not really. just... dark, and scary. the way to lose what you love. the way to lose yourself.

(there was an appeal to that, once, but...)

"this feels like a surefire way to get hypothermia," rantaro quips, and kaito lets out a little baritone chuckle, pulling off their shirt and tossing it onto the beach towel their laid out.

"it's not that cold," kaito responds, and it really isn't, not in the middle of august like it is now, not so close to the equator as they are. rantaro knows better than to trust the air, though, it's never known how to judge the water. the water is unpredictable, spontaneous. there's an appeal to that. rantaro would be bored with anything else.

but there's something scary about it, too.

"you're not really worried about hypothermia, are you?" kaito raises their eyebrows, and rantaro bites back a smile at the familiar uneven quirk of their brow. someday, they're going to figure out how to raise only _one_ eyebrow, and then everyone will be sorry. (their words.) "we don't really have to go swimming in the dark if you don't want to."

"maybe i am worried about the hypothermia," rantaro purses his lips slightly. he isn't, but he says it anyway, and kaito humours him with a little smile. "not like you'd be able to tell how cold the water is."

"i would so," kaito huffs. "i think i'd know what the temperature is if i was _submerged_ in it. my temperature sensitivity isn't that bad."

... it is, actually, but it's not a topic rantaro particularly cares to pursue, because it's not really what he's worried about, so he lets it go, breathing a sigh and looking over at the water again.

it's been so _long._

"i don't know if i'll be able to stand it," he admits, quietly. "it... reminds me too much of myself."

kaito moves closer, but rantaro doesn't hear their (heavy) footsteps on the sand, doesn't register their movement until their warm arms are wrapping around him from behind. kaito plants a kiss on the back of his head, and rantaro closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into the embrace.

they'll let him chicken out, if he really needs to. they've always been gentle like that.

"y'know, the ocean also reminds me of you?" kaito hooks their chin over rantaro's shoulder. "that's why i like it so much."

"what a flirt," rantaro snorts.

"hey," kaito grins. "i gotta shoot my shot, y'know." they give rantaro a little squeeze. "but really, taro. reminds me of my favourite parts of you, even if we're not talking about how beautiful it is." rantaro can feel their smile against his neck, when they kiss him there, and he lets out a quiet hum of acknowledgement. "ocean's mysterious, but not so scary once you're familiar with it. like a second home, except that i can't get enough of it, no matter how much i keep thinking i have."

kaito is as good with words as they've always been. rantaro's chest is warm, almost as warm as kaito is, wrapped around him as they are. but rantaro hesitates, anyway, rolling his lips between his teeth.

"if it's too much," kaito continues, their voice soft, "you could always try looking at the stars, instead."

... the stars, huh. rantaro opens his eyes at that, turning his gaze upwards, taking in the dark and fuzzy blues and purples scattered across the sky, stars as far as rantaro can see them. they reflect in the surface of the water, too, so even if rantaro looks down to the ocean again, he could just look to the milky way through it.

it's hard not to think about kaito when looking at the sky, especially when their eyes are the same shade of lilac as parts of the sky are right now, just past midnight. they've always had such a passion for space, are always trying to aim higher and higher and higher, do better and better, help everyone, fix everything. rantaro doesn't take the stars much for tryhards, but they're kaito's goal, always have been. even if rantaro would love them just as much if they shot for the clouds, or something, instead.

and it isn't as though rantaro doesn't see the stars through a haze of melancholy, either. he's wished on every star in the sky for his family back. he's spent hours in the middle of the ocean, lying on the deck of his sailboat, anchored to a spot, just counting stars to pass the time, trying not to think about what could have happened to the people he loves most in the world.

the stars are bittersweet even for kaito, whose lungs keep them from attaining their goal of becoming an astronaut, who told rantaro once, on a dark night, one much darker than this, that they saw the stars as their final escape, a place they'd go and never come back, so they would never have to be unhappy anymore.

but even so, the sight of them now makes tears burn in the corners of rantaro's eyes, and not the unhappy sort. he was so lonely before he met kaito, and fuck, he's _still_ lonely, (the most wonderful partner in the world-- which kaito is-- could never fill the empty space left behind by twelve lost sisters), but things are different now. better now. rantaro wakes up in the morning, almost every morning, to the sight of kaito in his arms, whether they're sleeping in their apartment or in a hotel or below deck on rantaro's boat. sometimes he wakes up to the smell of food sneaking through the door, and smiles, because he can't remember _ever_ being loved like this before, not by someone so beautiful, not in the intense, passionate way that kaito loves.

there's a sadness to those stars overhead, but they remind rantaro of the brilliant person behind him, the one who's been keeping him from giving up since they met. they're the only reason why rantaro is even here now.

this realisation makes rantaro's heart pound in sort of a desperate way, and he pulls himself out of kaito's embrace (they let him go) to discard his shirt, checking the waistband of his swimsuit before starting down the beach.

he hears kaito keeping pace with him this time, but rantaro is more consumed with the transition between dry, warm sand and the cool, wet grains by the water. he only hesitates for a moment before he charges into the waves, shuddering at the cold, pushing himself in until the water is up to his waist and then closing his eyes and falling forward, gasping the moment before his body hits the water.

and it's so _cold._

a full body shiver breaks through rantaro, and he rolls over onto his back, floating on the surface of the water, eyes fluttering open with a shock, coughing a little when he takes his first breath. there is water caught in his eyelashes, mingling with the tears that escape his eyes, and when rantaro looks through it, all he sees is a sky full of stars.

then kaito's face, after a moment, concerned, with a small, questioning smile quirking their lips. their eyebrows raise.

and rantaro laughs, loud, full, those tears leaking out of him, his stomach almost hurting with the force of the sound. there's something about this cold that is so visceral, so utterly human and real, and it isn't like coming home, not even slightly, home doesn't exist anymore, but it's--

it's _something,_ it's good, it's painful and raw and emotional and in every way it's the most free rantaro has been since he was born. he doesn't stop laughing, not even as he picks himself up, throwing his arms around kaito's shoulders, pressing their lips together and closing his eyes for once, just, letting himself fucking have this.

kaito's warmth provides a nice contrast to the biting cold of the water.

and amami rantaro is alive.

**Author's Note:**

> hehehhe heeelll yeaahhhhh nb kaito :]
> 
> i haven't written something this cathartic in ages hewwo........


End file.
